Page 42 of Heartfelt Goals

“Oh my gosh…”

“Dude, have you got my back? Please?Pretty please? I’m gonna owe you big time for this…” Coeur’s expression was pleading, practically vibrating with urgency.

Dustin ran a hand down his face. This was not how he’d planned to spend his night. He had been looking forward to sneaking in a few stolen moments to read Laurel’s book, letting himself get lost in her words, in her world. But no, instead, he was about to be roped into babysitting duty while his teammate disappeared to live out the kind of fantasies Dustin hadn’t been able to shake from his own mind when it came to the woman standing beside him.

“Just go,” Dustin muttered, throwing up his hands in defeat.

He barely caught Coeur’s triumphant grin before the man turned on his heel, already making his escape.

“I’m no good with kids—twenty!” Dustin hollered after him, desperation creeping into his voice.

“Twenty-five!” Coeur shot back, not even looking over his shoulder.

“Ten!”

Dustin’s retort fell flat as he watched Irene—Coeur’s redheaded wife—blush furiously about twenty feet away while being practically dragged from the room. Her husband had clamped onto her hand like a man on a mission, weaving through the crowd with singular determination.

Dustin turned back to Laurel, ready to apologize for the blatant lack of tact, when he caught sight of something unexpected—a wicked grin playing on her lips, her eyes alight with amusement.

“Was that… what I think that was?” she asked, arching a brow.

He groaned.

“Yeah. Sorry about that. Coeur has no shame. You should hear some of the things he’s said to my friends back home on the ice. He called poor Thierry ‘Fat Clairol’ for ages…”

And Laurel just hesitated before chuckling and shaking her head.

“Oh, don’t apologize,” she murmured, her tone thoughtful. “I’m stealing that and putting it in a book. That’s exactly what women want.”

He blinked and turned to stare at her.“What?!”

Laurel faltered for half a second before lifting her chin defiantly. “Shouldn’t you be babysitting?” she teased, an edge of laughter in her voice.

Dustin exhaled sharply. “Uh, you better explain that comment first.”

Laurel’s expression softened, her voice turning wistful. “Women want a man to show they care. To want them. To overpower them—not in a bad way—but to make it clear they’re desired. It’s the same all over the world, in all the books. Women want to be cherished, cared for, and loved.”

His gaze sharpened, drawn to the slight hesitation in her voice. “And you want that?”

She stilled. “I didn’t sayme- I said women,” she deflected, but there was a crack in her confidence.

Dustin stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You’re very much a woman,” he pointed out, the words slow, deliberate. “Doyouwant something like that? For some man to take you by the wrist and whisk you away someplace to do all sorts of wicked things to you?”

He hadn’t meant to sound quite so raw, so darn eager, but he couldn’t pull the words back now.

Laurel sucked in a breath, her pupils dilating, her lips parting as if she had suddenly forgotten how to speak. He saw it—the way the air between them shifted, thickened. The way her resolve crumbled under the weight of the truth that neither of them had dared voice aloud.

“Not justsomeman…” she whispered.

Dustin’s heart slammed against his ribs.

“Oh,” he managed, the single syllable barely a breath.

They stood there, staring at each other, neither one daring to move, as if a single step might shatter the moment.

He swallowed hard. “I should go check on the kid.”

“I should check on Kendall,” she murmured.

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